


Relevant to Your Interests

by gummycola



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Confessions, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummycola/pseuds/gummycola
Summary: Arthur doesn't like the same things Alfred likes, but Arthur likes Alfred. A lot. (Short and sappy one-shot about high school boys and lunch)





	Relevant to Your Interests

Alfred was worried about stable time loops and Arthur was worried about what he was doing wrong.

 

Their high school was large. It was so large, in fact, that people sometimes had trouble making friends. Various ideas for helping students meet one another had been tossed about, but none had met with much success. In desperation, the principal herself had concocted a plan. Interest Tables had been the result.

 

Interest Tables were lunchroom tables featuring large white flags with a certain “interest” printed on them. There were all sorts of interest tables. Anyone could start one, so long as he or she spoke with a teacher or faculty member first. The tables were created and disbanded according to, well, interest, and attendance. Some tables had more than ten members. Others had a whopping two. Unofficial, unapproved tables would sometimes spring up when somebody had a sharpie. Prussia was sitting under a “Nice Bums” flag today.

 

Arthur was sitting under the sci-fi flag.

 

He'd been under the cooking flag first, hoping to learn something useful, but Francis had kicked him out after the incident with the crème brulee. He'd headed to the aptly titled “Boats!” table next, but Antonio destroyed his battleship one too many times, and he'd had to flee. Finally, he'd ended up at the history table, and that's where he found him.

 

Alfred F. Jones had a Southern accent, a slightly crooked nose and a very crooked smile. He liked trains, planes, and automobiles. He believed in ghosts, aliens, government conspiracies, time travel and Santa. He did not believe in homeopathic medicine. He knew more about planes than anyone had ever known about anything.

 

Arthur was a little in love with him.

 

The history table had been a good one, and Arthur was filled with a nostalgic longing for it. He'd fit in there. All of the other nerds had accepted him, and had been thrilled with his knowledge of World War II. Alfred had shined there, as he did everywhere, and Arthur had been able to _talk_ to him. They'd discussed the liberation of France and the Pacific War. They'd talked about whether or not Catch 22 was a good book. They'd discussed the proper way to pet a grumpy cat.

 

Arthur would have been happy staying at the history table forever. Unfortunately, Alfred didn't seem to be happy anywhere.

 

Arthur had arrived at the history table one day, only to find that Alfred had moved four tables down to the computers table. The computers table was a daunting and solemn place which knew no laughter, no chatter and no sound at all, save for the clack of the keyboards. Alfred did not fit in there. Arthur did not fit in there, but he followed Alfred there nonetheless.

 

The next day Alfred had tried the video games table. This had been a great success for the young man, who soon impressed everyone with his impeccable gaming skill. Even Arthur was a little awed by it. But  all that attention and admiration wasn't enough, and Alfred soon moved on—this time, to the sci-fi table.

 

The sci-fi table was the worst of them all.

 

No one at the sci-fi table liked Arthur. They thought he did not know anything about sci-fi, and they were absolutely right. They were also possessed by some terrible and mean demon that made them intensely despise Doctor Who, which was the only sci-fi program Arthur knew anything about. Anytime he mentioned it, however, he was rudely directed toward the Whovian table, which met beside the pillar that had been decorated as a TARDIS.

 

The Doctor Who table had tea, biscuits and a plush Dalek. But it did not have an Alfred.

 

And it was at the sci-fi table, in the middle of a heated discussion of the improper time travel in the film Looper, that Arthur realized every interest table might as well be titled Alfred, and that was magnificently unhealthy.

 

But then, Alfred excused himself, tossed his trash into the bin, and headed out of the lunchroom.

 

There was a silence that came to blanket the sci-fi table, and somewhere, in the distance, Arthur swore he heard a keyboard clacking. He told himself he wouldn't move, that following Alfred, even now, was utterly ridiculous. He told himself that the boy wasn't interested in him, couldn't see him, had barely spoken to him since the history table. He told himself he was pathetic and weird and my god, wasn't that a lovely girl at the literature table?

 

He told himself all that, and the hostile stares of the sci-fi nerds poked into him from all round, and he quietly excused himself and followed Alfred out of the lunchroom.

 

The other boy wasn't hard to find. He was halfway between the cafeteria and the main hall, leaning on a post and staring at nothing. Arthur approached him very quietly. It was very cold outside.

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

Alfred didn't look startled and he didn't jump, but he did close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were zeroed in on Arthur in a way he'd never seen. Alfred looked very serious. Arthur didn't make any sound.

 

“You don't like sci-fi, do you?”

 

Arthur did not lie. He shook his head.

 

“You don't like video games either. You _really_ don't like computers.”

 

“Well I-- I didn't like the computer _table_ is all. Computers are perfectly fine.”

 

“Dude, don't even. You use IE.”

 

Arthur didn't know what that meant, but he was going to retort, when Alfred interrupted again.

 

“If you didn't like the table, why were you there?”

 

Arthur clammed up at that. He held his breath. He watched Alfred's escape through his nose in a little fog of condensation.

 

“I like you.”

 

Arthur hadn't said it. He'd wanted to say it, but he hadn't.

 

Alfred grinned his crooked grin.

 

The next day, a new interest table was created. Under a red, white and blue homemade flag sat two boys, one with a smile and the other with a blush.

 

The flag said “Arthur.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for 365 days of USUK way way back in 2014, when I was young and my heart was full of joy and a love of life. Now all that's left is the USUK and some plaque build-up.


End file.
